The Gravedigger's Apprentice
by Spookykat
Summary: Sully reluctantly calls on the services of Booth and Brennan after his half-brother is found buried alive with a woman. The squints must work together to solve the case before the killer claims one of their own. **Warning! S5 Spoilers!** Please R/R.
1. Prologue

4:30 AM was early by anyone's standards. Or late, depending on what time you woke up the day before. A few years ago in college, Gary would be just going to bed at this hour. But now his head was still foggy with sleep and the caffeine from the cup of coffee he'd had before he left from his apartment had yet to take effect.

The path was deserted, lit only by the orange light of a low, tired moon and most of the joggers wouldn't be here for another hour yet. But this, Gary thought as he tied the laces of his tennis shoes, was worth getting up for. It was as though everything was just waiting to come to life. The air was crisp and inviting. The gray light of dawn cloaked the world in the promise of the coming sunrise. The chorus of songbirds filled the air and with his German Shepherd Schlotzky, a retired cadaver dog, by his side, he was reminded that he was not, in fact, alone in the universe.

With Schlotzky trotting along side him on a leash, Gary made his way down the path, one foot in front of the other, relishing the adrenaline rush that was beginning to pump through his veins.

Gary could usually count on Schlotzky to be a good dog. Like most German Shepherds, he was large, but easy to train and was, for the most part, obedient to commands.

But this morning, the German Shepherd almost ripped Gary's arm out of its socket. His nose was to the ground.

"Schlotzky!" he called, but the dog took off into a dense thicket of trees.

"Crazy damn dog," he mumbled. He heard a familiar bark less than 500 yards away.

"Schlotzky!" he called again, but the dog would not move from his spot and continued barking, not in a ferocious, threatening way; more in a 'Hey, look what I found!' way.

"Schlotzky?" Gary called again.

And then he saw it.

The early morning moonlight was reflecting on glass.

Shlotzky pawed at the dirt surrounding it, and Gary dug as fast and as furiously as he could.

Schlotzky whimpered.

There was a flash of chrome. Then red.

"Is this a…car?" Gary wondered aloud.

Gary dug his cell phone out of his sock and turned it on, poising the blue light that came from it over what he now realized to be a windshield.

He swallowed.

Two skeletons were huddled together. It was the kind of thing you only saw on horror movies. Only…this was real. Very real.

The blood was now rushing to Gary's head and pounding in his ears as he dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1," a steady woman's voice answered on the other end of the line. "What's your emergency?"

"Uh, yeah, I found something. Actually, my dog found something. And I'm trying very hard not to scream like a little girl."

*~*~*~*~*

He never thought he'd be here.

When he'd asked, he certainly never thought she'd agree.

Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead in this place, and he knew she was only interested in places like these from a purely anthropological standpoint. He hadn't been here since his grandfather's funeral fifteen years ago, and he never intended to go back. He'd considered the place to be earth's equivalent of hell. Which was ironic, considering the fact that a massive crucifix towered over his head and images of saints covered the windows.

But today, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

Organ music played softly in the background. The pews were filled with family and friends, and thankfully one person in particular did not decide to grace them with his presence today.

That was the last thing they needed.

He was certain that the only woman in the world he could ever imagine spending the rest of his life with was waiting at the other end of the aisle. In a few short moments, they would be bound together forever.

The familiar chords of The Bridal March sounded on the organ. Everyone gasped.

'God, she looks beautiful,' he thought as her father walked her down the aisle.

"Do you, Temperance Brennan, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, from this day forth, until death do you part?"

"I am extremely uncomfortable committing myself for eternity," she protested using air-quotation marks, "which does not exist, to someone in an archaic ritual that can be annulled in forty-eight hours or dissolved by divorce papers at any given time."

He chuckled.

"Is that a yes or a no?" the priest asked.

"Just say 'yes,' baby," her father whispered from the front pew.

"But she doesn't love him!" Angela cried from her spot behind Brennan. "Sweetie, you can't marry someone you don't love."

"Yes I can! I can divorce him if I don't like it! People do it all the time!"

"Then you don't love him?" shouted a familiar voice from the back.

"NO, SHE DOESN'T!" the wedding party replied together.

A loud buzzing sound rang out through the chapel.

And Sully woke up alone in his bedroom with the light of his cell phone alerting him to a new incoming call.


	2. Chapter 1

"Booth," she replied, with a sniffle, fighting the tears that were threatening to surface. "You DO know the difference between fantasy and reality," the hurt, confused look on his face made her feel as though she'd just swallowed a bowling ball and told her that it might have been more humane to just stab him in the heart.

Silence.

"Don't you?"

He could only shake his head in response, confirming her worst fears.

He had kissed her.

He'd kissed her like he'd done it a million times before. It was as familiar to him as it was foreign to her. She didn't resist exactly. The wrongness of it all had nothing to do with the kiss itself. The kiss itself made her realize what Booth was talking about when he said love defied physics. It was knee-buckling and Brennan was afraid she'd faint dead away right then and there. But as soon as his mouth left her lips she couldn't get away from him fast enough.

It wasn't as though she hadn't wanted this…needed it, like a flame needs a spark.

But this wasn't how it was supposed to be. It wasn't right. Not like this.

She wasn't HIS Bones anymore. She was someone else; at least he was someone else in his mind.

"I'm sorry, Brennan, I thought…" he mumbled, unable to look her in the eyes.

"Booth, I…" she began, but she couldn't think of anything to say.

So she left.

It would be six weeks before she would see him again.

*~*~*~

Otter Lake, VA

***

When Sully arrived, the crime scene was already buzzing with Virginia CSI's and law enforcement. He scanned the faces and none of them were familiar.

"Excuse me," he asked the first person he could find. "Can I find the agent in charge?"

"That would be me," said a burly man with a wreath of peppery gray hair and a moustache. "Special Agent John Ackerman. We spoke on the phone."

Sully nodded. "Tim Sullivan, but most people call me Sully."

"Thanks for comin' out here at such an ungodly hour," he said. Sully could see his breath as early-morning fog began to roll in.

"I have to admit, I was a little surprised to get the call," he said. "I'm a little rusty at this kind of stuff."

"Were you and your brother close, Mr. Sullivan?"

"Close enough to send Christmas Cards," Sully said. "But not much beyond that."

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss Sully. Any reason why your brother might've called you?"

"I used to be an FBI Agent," he answered, hoping that Ackerman wouldn't ask for an explanation. "Any guesses on how he died?"

"Being buried in a shallow grave in a '65 Ford Galaxy for a day or so probably did the trick. No telling how long the car was there, though. I'll need you to identify your half-brother's remains."

He waved over a couple of field agents who brought over a body bag. Sully zipped it open and revealed a skeleton.

"You didn't tell me there were only bones here," Sully said, more than a little miffed.

"I was hopin' maybe you'd be able to identify the clothes," Ackerman replied sheepishly. "I guess this will be one for the boys at the crime lab."

"At least he died in a classic," Sully said.

Ackerman only nodded. "I've been in the field office a long time. Don't know if I've ever seen anything like this before

"I've gotta tell ya, Agent Ackerman," he said as he observed the car being lifted out of its hole. "I don't think I have, either."

"Any idea as to who the other person in there might've been?"

Sully shook his head.

"Anywhere in particular you want to send your half-brother's body? I mean, after the autopsy?"

"The Jeffersonian. Send both of them to the lab there. And the car, too, while you're at it. She's going to want the car as well."

"The car? That's gonna take a helluva lot of manpower, Sully."

"You can bill me personally for the hours, but I know for a fact she's gonna want the whole shebang."

"She?"

"She's the best. The people I know at the Jeffersonian will be able to figure this one out better than anyone."

"So are the Feds officially taking over? Are you authorized to do that? I thought you said you left the FBI."

"I did," he answered sheepishly. "But trust me on this one. I know people who will be able to handle this."

"You've got connections?"

"Well, I had connections," Sully clarified. "An old flame," he said. "If anyone can make heads or tails of this, it's her."

"Who knew skeletons and homicide could be so romantic?" Ackerman said with a chuckle.

"She's seen something like this before. I know she has."

"You've still got it pretty bad for her, huh?"

It was finally here. The day she'd been dreading since she'd received a call from Booth's boss requesting her presence in Sweets' office.

She had every intention of skipping the appointment, blowing Sweets and Booth off and never setting foot in the J. Edgar Hoover building again, but yet here she was, on the other side of the FBI psychologist's office.

With a deep breath, she opened Sweets' office door.

She was surprised to see Booth had already arrived.

Outwardly, he looked the same. In fact, the only indicators that her actions still cut deeply were the dark circles under his eyes.

He nodded politely.

"Good morning, Brennan," he said cordially.

She inwardly winced. Sweets cleared his throat.

"Brennan?" Sweets echoed incredulously, shaking his head. "Um, wow."

"That's her name, right?" Booth asked Sweets.

Sweets only nodded, giving Brennan a look that clearly said 'You've got to be kidding me.'

"Booth, I don't think I've told you yet how good it is to see you back!" Sweets said, a little too cheerfully. "Dr. Brennan, isn't it good to have Booth back?"

She nodded and smiled. "You look good, Booth," was all she could think of to say.

The awkwardness that filled the air between the three was nearly palpable.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Sweets said with the faux cheerfulness of a stewardess. "You've both been called here because, as I'm sure you are both aware, Deputy Director Cullen has insisted that the FBI cooperate as much as possible with the Jeffersonian in light of your extraordinary track record."

He got up from behind the desk, sitting on its surface now.

"Since Dr. Brennan has previously expressed her lack of desire to work with any other agent besides Booth," he continued. "Cullen insists that rather than transferring Agent Booth somewhere else and spending obscene amounts of money to train a newbie, we try to reestablish the relationship, which although definitely toxic, also proved to be a key element in solving cases."

"I wouldn't say we were toxic before," Brennan objected.

"That's a good start," Sweets said. "Do you have anything to add to that, Booth?"

"How could I?" Booth snapped.

"Your memory has been restored, Booth," Sweets said. "You should be able to remember significant details."

"I remember big things," Booth said quietly. "I remember how to do my job. I know my name. My birth date. My security clearance. My son. I remember people's names—the ones who are important to me," he said, glancing at Sweets, "or people who used to be," he added, glaring at Brennan, which stung Brennan more than she was prepared for. "But beyond that, it's…a little iffy."

"Booth…I…" Brennan started, but once again, shut her mouth, unable to find the words to make it right.

"Iffy's bad, isn't it?" Booth asked sheepishly.

"Not bad," Sweets replied. "Feelings…thoughts…are neither good nor bad. It's what we do with them that matter. Iffy is a benchmark. It tells us where you are now. Iffy helps me to determine how far you've come."

"Iffy's not good enough," Brennan blurted out.

"Good," Sweets encouraged. "Let's get it all out in the open…"

"Iffy's all I've got," Booth retorted, interrupting Sweets.

"Good, good! This is all very constructive and healthy," Sweets said in an obvious attempt to regain control of the conversation, feeling every bit the paperweight.

"You're unbelievable, you know," she said, standing up so she could tower over him.

"I'm. Doing. My. Best," Booth growled, standing up to match her glare.

"I don't know who you are anymore!" Brennan fired back.

"Ditto!" Booth shouted, turning to leave.

"So we'll work our way up to trust exercises," Sweets said with a sigh as they both stormed out, each slamming the door behind them.


	3. Chapter 2

When Sully arrived, the crime scene was already buzzing with Virginia CSI's and law enforcement. He scanned the faces and none of them were familiar.

"Excuse me," he asked the first person he could find. "Can I find the agent in charge?"

"That would be me," said a burly man with a wreath of peppery gray hair and a moustache. "I'm Chief John Ackerman. We spoke on the phone."

Sully nodded. "Tim Sullivan, but most people call me Sully."

"Thanks for comin' out here at such an ungodly hour," he said. Sully could see his breath as early-morning fog began to roll in.

"I have to admit, I was a little surprised to get the call," he said. "I'm a little rusty at this kind of stuff."

"Were you and your brother close, Mr. Sullivan?"

"Close enough to send Christmas Cards," Sully said. "But not much beyond that."

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss, sir. Any reason why your brother might've called you?"

"I used to be an FBI Agent," he answered, hoping that Ackerman wouldn't ask for an explanation. "Any guesses on how he died?"

"Being buried in a shallow grave in a '65 Ford Galaxy for a day or so probably did the trick. No telling how long the car was there, though. I'll need you to identify your half-brother's remains."

He waved over a couple of field agents who brought over a body bag. Sully zipped it open and revealed a skeleton.

"You didn't tell me there were only bones here," Sully said, more than a little miffed.

"I was hopin' maybe you'd be able to identify the clothes," Ackerman replied sheepishly. "I guess this will be one for the boys at the crime lab."

"At least he died in a classic," Sully said.

Ackerman only nodded. "I've been on the force a long time. Don't know if I've ever seen anything like this before."

"I've gotta tell ya, Agent Ackerman," he said as he observed the car being lifted out of its hole. "I don't think I have, either."

"Any idea as to who the other person in there might've been?"

Sully shook his head.

"Anywhere in particular you want to send your half-brother's body? I mean, after the autopsy?"

"The Jeffersonian. Send both of them to the lab there. And the car, too, while you're at it. She's going to want the car as well."

"The car? That's gonna take a helluva lot of manpower, sir."

"You can bill me personally for the hours, but I know for a fact she's gonna want the whole shebang."

"She?"

"She's the best. The people I know at the Jeffersonian will be able to figure this one out better than anyone."

"So are the Feds officially taking over? Are you authorized to do that? I thought you said you left the FBI."

"I did," he answered sheepishly. "But trust me on this one. I know people who will be able to handle this."

"You've got connections?"

"Well, I had connections," Sully clarified. "An old flame," he said. "If anyone can make heads or tails of this, it's her."

"Who knew skeletons and homicide could be so romantic?" Ackerman said with a chuckle.

"She's seen something like this before. I know she has."

"You've still got it pretty bad for her, huh?"

 *~*~*~*~*~ 

"Dr. Brennan, thank God you're back from your meeting with Sweets. We've got a situation here," Cam said, gesturing to FBI Agents bringing in two body bags.

"What IS this?!" Cam bellowed towards the field agents.

"I'm Agent Connor. We got this order from one of your people…"

"My people!? Who!?"

"Name's on the order, ma'am," he said sheepishly. We've also towed in a 1965 Ford Galaxy."

"A Ford Galaxy!" Hodgins crowed. "A vintage 1965 Ford Galaxy! Do you know how many of those are left in running condition?"

"No, but I'll bet you do," Cam said dryly.

"Let's just hope we can resuscitate her," Hodgins said

"I didn't know we had a new case," Brennan replied.

"You and me both," Cam said. "I don't know who the hell authorized this, but it would've been nice to have at least a little warning, don't you think?"

"I concur," Brennan agreed. "I should call Booth about this."

"You guys are speaking again?" Angela asked hopefully.

"Not exactly," Brennan said. "But he is still my partner and communication regarding an unauthorized case is something I deem highly necessary."

"Well," Cam said, unzipping one of the body bags, "it's a good thing there are witnesses around here, because when I find out who pulled this stunt…"

"That would be me," Sully said.

Brennan could do nothing but blink.

"Sully?" Cam asked with an expression somewhere between bewilderment and irritation.

"Wow," Angela mouthed.

"Uh-oh." Hodgins mumbled, pretending to get back to his task at hand.

"Hi, Agent Sullivan,'" Cam said curtly. "Long time no see. I would be a bit more enthusiastic, but stepping on toes is not the way to get a decent 'Welcome Back' Party around here."

Just then, Booth walked up.

"What the hell's going on here?" he roared.

"Agent Booth!" Sully said, shaking Booth's hand. "Good to see you again, man."

"I don't…"

"Booth's had a brain tumor," Brennan supplied bluntly.

"Wow, sounds serious," Sully said. "You're okay, though, right?"

"They wouldn't have reinstated him if he wasn't," Brennan said defensively.

"I just have trouble with names, is all," Booth finished.

"That's Sully, Booth." Brennan said.

Booth moved next to Brennan. "Did he and I not get along?" he mumbled only loud enough so Brennan could hear. "I have a funny feeling I don't like him."

"Well," Sully said. If he heard Booth's comment, he didn't show it. "It's a good thing we're all here. Dr. Soroyan, I hope you'll accept my apologies for overstepping my boundaries, but I think you'll understand why I did it when certain facts about this case are brought to light."

"Facts such as…" Cam said, urging him to explain.

"I was called to the scene because there was a note found on the male's remains asking for me and it was signed by my half-brother, James."

"I didn't know you had a half-brother," Brennan said.

"We were never really close," he explained.

"Oh," was all Brennan could think of to say.

Sully cleared his throat and continued. "I ordered everything to be sent here because I knew you guys had seen this kind of thing before. The skeletons were found by a retired cadaver dog in the vintage Galaxy. The bodies had been submerged in a shallow grave. I remember Tempe telling me about a case like this once. She was trapped in her car…"

"The gravedigger…" Brennan said in an almost-whisper.

Hodgins froze.

"By the way, Dr. Hodgins," Sully continued, "the car is in the evidence parking garage. I'm guessing you'll want to take a look at it and work your magic?"

"But we found The Gravedigger six months ago," Hodgins said quietly.

"But to pull you into Dr. Brennan's car AND carry Booth was too much for one person…" Cam said quietly.

"As soon as we find out who James' companion was," Sully suggested, " we should find out if there was a ransom out on her."

Booth nodded.

"And there's no way she could've killed Vega," Angela said, squeezing Hodgins' arm. "You said so yourself."

"She was working with someone else," Booth finished.

"Booth, you remember?!" Brennan said.

"It's coming back in bits and pieces. I remember being kidnapped."

"So we need to find out if the former Assistant US State Attorney has connections on the outside…" Brennan began.

"Or if he's..."

"She," Brennan prompted. "Tasser is a woman."

"If she is The Gravedigger herself somehow working from inside the prison, or if she's just…an apprentice, following someone's orders."

"And if she's an apprentice, that means the Gravedigger's still out there…" Brennan finished, stating the obvious.

"I'd say it's time to pay that bitch a visit," Cam said.

"Brennan, what's say we take a little trip and have a little chat with an old friend?" Booth said.

"But I want a look at my bones!"

Cam shook her head. "Nothing doing, Dr. Brennan. There appears to be some traces of tissue…enough for me to run some tests. When I'm done with that, Fischer still has to clean the remains. That should be completed by the time you two come back."

Brennan sighed. Spending a long time in a car with Booth was the last thing she wanted to do after their disastrous session with Sweets, but there was no arguing with Cam, and nothing she could do but follow her partner out the door.


	4. Chapter 3

"Ok, people," Cam said after Brennan left with Booth. "I know this guy…"

"Or gal," Angela added.

"This PERSON did a number on all of us…some more than others," she said, nodding at Hodgins, "but we proceed as usual. This is just another baddie who needs to be put away like every other scum-bag we process, and this is our chance to put this creep behind bars for good."

"What can I do, Dr. Soroyan?" Sully asked.

"Stay out of the way," she said coldly. "You weren't around during the first original case."

"It's kind of like walking in during the middle of a conversation, isn't it?" Fischer said.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sully asked, completely bewildered.

"You've ruined a moment," Fischer explained. "You've made the magic go away. And they try to catch you up to speed, they tell you it's okay, but you know better...it's no use. The magic is gone. Gone in the deep, dark hole with your happiness right before you…"

"Fischer! I will catch you up later," Cam said through gritted teeth. "For now, there appears to be enough tissue samples on the female victim's remains for a tox screen. And Angela," she said, looking at the chest cavity, "do you see what I see?"

"A silicon breast implant!" Angela said. With gloved hands, Cam gingerly picked one up. "Trace that number and see who you come up with." Then she turned to Sully. "Are you even in the Bureau anymore in any kind of capacity?"

"I've applied for reinstatement," Sully replied.

"Then I'm sorry, Sully, but until it's official, I see no reason for you to be on the government's payroll for this one. I will not be held responsible for you."

Sully nodded, resigned to the fact that Cam was not going to be swayed. "Fine. I'll let you know when the paperwork comes through." With that, Sully left.

*~*~*~*~*~ 

The last thing Brennan wanted was to be alone in a car for the duration of the trip to Troy Virginia, but it seemed inevitable.

Fluvanna Correctional Center in Troy, was home of the former Assistant US State Attorney Heather Taffett and approximately 1,200 other high-risk female offenders.

As far as Brennan was concerned, the SUV might as well have had barbed wire and security guards. It was going to be a long two-and-half hours.

The gearshift that separated them might as well have been the Pacific Ocean.

"So fill me in," Booth said as they got in the car.

"Two years ago, we began a case involving two adolescent male skeletons trapped in what the officer at the scene described as a spaceship," she began, feeling odd explaining their history to him.

Booth whistled '_The X-Files_' theme.

"I'm trying to tell you what happened," Brennan said. "Do you mind not whistling?"

"I'm not whistling," Booth protested. Brennan raised her eyebrows in response.

"I'm making a reference. That was _The X-Files_ theme. It sounded like something Mulder and Scully would investigate."

"I don't know what that means," Brennan said flatly. And then she smiled. How many times had Booth made some cultural reference? How many times had she told him she didn't know what it meant? She knew this was going to be difficult, getting used to this new Booth, adjusting to their new dynamic. She couldn't even imagine what it was like for Booth himself, what he must be going through. But that was the first sign that it might be okay after all.

"What?" Booth asked, noticing her grin.

"It's just…I say that a lot…around you. I say that a lot around a lot of people. But mostly around you. You keep forgetting I don't have a T.V."

His smile was almost imperceptible. "So…adolescent males in a 'spaceship'" He said, making air-quotation marks with one hand, keeping the other in the wheel.

"I'd determined that one boy died puncturing one of his arteries with a pin to allow his sibling to live. I was in the parking garage on my way to martial arts class. Then I felt this shock and after that…" she shook her head. "Hodgins apparently ran after me to tell me something important about his findings. He got run over by the car for his troubles."

"But you survived," Booth said.

"Yes. Hodgins had some VERY expensive perfume he'd gotten for Angela. With that, and a flashlight, he was able to determine our exact location based on the fluorescent properties of the dirt that surrounded us. Our cell phone batteries were taken, but we still had our cell phones…"

"And you managed to jury rig an electrical charge from the electrical circuits in the car?!" He concluded."

"Correct," she said.

"Woah. How …MacGyver of you. Let me guess…you don't know who MacGyver is, either?"

Brennan shook her head. "Hodgins sent a message to you for Zack of the elements and derivatives that surrounded us. You found us that way. Hodgins managed to generate just enough air from oxidation in order for me to blow us out using the car's air bag explosives."

"Zack?" Booth asked, a quizzical look on his face.

"Dr. Zack Addy," she said with a distant expression. "He…is no longer a colleague," she finished, having no desire to fill in that little detail, not yet, anyway.

Booth just nodded.

"We were never able to determine who the killer was, however," she said. "Not until after Tasser kidnapped you a year later."

"_That_ I remember," Booth said, shoulders tensing.

The silence that followed seemed interminable and the awkwardness, palpable. But Brennan didn't quite no what to say. She knew there were volumes she could say about the case, but the file had the specifics in it. Booth (gratefully) didn't feel the need to fill the air with idle chatter, so the silence was occasionally punctuated by a scratchy voice on Booth's police scanner, and Brennan was left to her thoughts.

Brennan watched the lines on the highway fade into each other until Booth pulled over to fill the tank.

"You want anything?" Booth asked.

Brennan shook her head.

"Look," Booth said as he took his seat again in the SUV. "I know that things are difficult. And I just wanted to apologize for my part in the issues."

"Booth," she began, but he put his hand up.

"Just let me finish, okay? I just wanted you to know that I've tendered my resignation."

"You what?!?!"

"After this case, I'm out of the Bureau."

"Booth! I don't understand! Why would you do such a thing?! It's because of me, isn't it? We've had arguments before. We can get past this."

"What arguments did we have before?"

"We have disagreements. A lot of disagreements. Some people would call it bickering. I call it healthy debate."

"It's amazing we've stood each other for this long," he said quietly.

"And we've had major arguments."

"You arrested me," she said, ignoring his . "For shooting a man when we first began working together, but I didn't get charged with anything."

He opened his mouth to say something, but Brennan said…"and you were just doing your job.

"Well, *I* didn't see a problem with it," Brennan answered, "but you arrested my father for killing Deputy Director Kirby. I recognized that you were perfectly within your rights and duties to do so and therefore had no problem with it, but everyone else kept insisting I did, including you, which created the problem more than the actual issue."

"I arrested your father?? And you didn't have a problem with that?"

"I'm good at compartmentalizing. According to Dr. Sweets and Angela, maybe a little too good."

"Oh."

"You agree with them," Brennan said after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Or at least you did."

"Temperance, I couldn't even remember the details of this Gravedigger person without referring to the case-files. I remembered being kidnapped, but beyond that, I had to look it all up."

"But the FBI cleared you for reinstatement! This is ridiculous!"

"You're bothered by the fact that I've been calling you Temperance," he said matter-of-factly, ignoring her objection. "Sweets made a point of mentioning it at the meeting. What do I normally call you?"

"Bones," she said in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible. "You called me Bones."

"Bones? Like the doctor on 'Star Trek'?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Never mind. What kind of a nickname is that?"

"I think it had to do with my area of expertise."

"Oh, because you work with bones…I'm clever!"

"Give it some time, Booth," Brennan pleaded.

"So we only worked together?" Booth asked, realization dawning on him.

Brennan nodded. "It was strictly professional."

"That explains why you were so upset about the…"

"Kiss…" Brennan supplied. Booth nodded.

"Back at the hospital. I'm sorry if I was out of line."

"I should've come back…later…I knew you were confused…brain surgeries sometimes do that to people."

"And that Sully person? Why do I feel like I should hate him?"

"We dated."

"So I would be angry at him because…"

"Well, he sailed off into the sunset, quite literally."

"And we were strictly professional?"

"We were very close. You could be needlessly overprotective at times."

"How ever did you put up with me?" Booth said with a half-smile as they pulled up to the gates of the prison.

"I managed somehow," Brennan teased.

"Then it's probably a good thing that I'm moving on," Booth answered quietly.

"Probably…" Brennan said, matching his tone, concentrating, once again, on the sea of asphalt in front of her.


	5. Chapter 4

An uncomfortable silence made the short drive to Fluvanna Correctional Facility for Women seem like it lasted an eternity. She leaned her head against the cool glass of the passenger-side window, watching the road blend into itself as her brain wrapped around the latest turn of events.

Booth was leaving. Really leaving. How dare he! She was the one who did the leaving in this relationship…not him. And as if wasn't enough, that was being overshadowed by the fact that a familiar monster who almost claimed both their lives on two separate occasions was back.

And so was Sully.

Sully…who was the one person who could get her to let her guard down…who never made her feel like she had to explain herself or accommodate or apologize…

She closed her eyes as though the very act could block out the flood of memories.

Not that she still had feelings for Sully. He turned out just to be something else to get over. Letting him in again was out of the question. He turned out to be just someone else on the list of people who abandoned her.

And now Booth was going to be added to the list, too.

She didn't have much time to dwell on this, though, for they had just approached the prison that housed their number-one suspect. 

*~*~*~*~*~ 

Warden Alonzo Gonzalez's office was very small and poorly lit. But Brennan had to admit it was at least tidy. There was only room enough for one chair and Booth indicated that Brennan should take it.

"You do realize that, anthropologically speaking, what you call 'chivalry' is merely a way in which men used to constantly put women in their places. It was a way to demonstrate who was in control."

"Were you always this annoying?"

"I've always been me," she said huffily.

"I'll take that as a yes," Booth mumbled, sitting down.

Gonzalez rolled his eyes. "You sound like me and my Felicia…married thirty years this May."

"Thank you for taking the time to visit with us," Booth said amiably. "And congratulations," he said, shaking his hand.

"Can I get you two some water or something?" Gonzalez said.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Gonzalez," Booth replied.

"Warden Gonzalez," Brennan corrected.

"I'm with the FBI. My name's Seeley Booth. This is Dr. Temperance Brennan…"

"THE Temperance Brennan The crime novelist?! No way! I was sure that was a…how do you say, penname…because, really, what kind of name is Temperance?"

"It means patience," she said in a tone that indicated she was anything but at the moment.

"Listen…Dr. Brennan, sorry about the name thing. I'd like to make it up to you can you by feeding you and your partner dinner tonight. Would that be all right? My wife makes wonderful empanadas. You're her favorite novelist and it would be an honor to have you both as my guest."

"That's…not necessary, Signor Gonzalez. I'm not sure if my schedule allows…" Brennan said, shaking her head, but Booth interrupted.

"What we really need from you is information on an inmate here."

"Which inmate?"

"Former AUSA Heather Taffet," Booth said, producing her picture.

"What kind of information do you need?"

"Whatever you can give us," Booth answered. "Telephone logs, where she's housed, anything that raised any bells."

"What prompted this inquiry if I may ask?"

"Are you aware of her crimes?"

"You'd have to be living in a cave not to know what she did. The Gravedigger was considered high profile, especially after the author of the book on the subject was killed. Due to the nature of her crimes and the fact that her mug was plastered all over CNN, MSNBC, Fox News and Court TV, she's considered high-risk and was placed in a single cell. I can't even imagine what it must've been like for the victims to die like that."

"No, you can't," Brennan said. "A colleague and I were almost on that list." And then she added: "Six months ago, so was Booth."

"I remember being kidnapped," Booth insisted.

"I know," Brennan replied through gritted teeth.

Gonzalez gave a confused look to both his visitors, but cleared his throat.

"No wonder you people want to keep tabs on her," he said. "I can assure you, she's under a tight watch here. That b1tch ain't goin' nowhere."

"We're not here to question your ability to do your job, sir," Brennan said. She snatched the folder from Booth and showed them the picture of the skeletons.

"It looks like something on T.V. …" he murmured.

"This is as real as it gets," Booth said. "We're here because it seems Taffet is either orchestrating something from the inside, or we've got a copycat serial killer on our hands. We need to know which one we're dealing with here."

"Anything you people need, just name it, it's yours," he said.

"We'd like a meeting with Taffet," Brennan said.

"We'd also like a log of her visitors, her phone logs, internet usage, anything you can give us as far as her interaction or possible connection with the outside world," Booth added.

"That can be arranged. Do you want a wall between you or would you rather I set a room up?" *~*~*~*~ It wasn't long before they were introduced to the Captain of the day shift, a stocky, short woman named Grant. Despite her height, she proved in their short acquaintance that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Officer Oglesby, Officer Walters, I want you two to upstairs now for Prisoner Transport of Prisoner Taffett," she glanced at the file, "number 24601 to Interrogation Room B. Officer Landon," Grant barked to a burly girl with long, red hair with dark brown roots. "Check these two for weapons and see that they're brought into the interrogation room." And then to Booth and Brennan: "She'll have to search you for weapons."

"Oh, that IS a gun in your pocket," Landon said as she frisked Booth, who looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Well," she said to Brennan. "I'd say you have something to compensate for," when she held up Brennan's over-sized steel gun, "but that's usually a man thing."

It wasn't long before Landon lead them into a room with only a table and a couple of chairs.

And a familiar face appeared at the doorway, handcuffed and led by two guards. Her hair was still red, but now was gray at the roots. Liver spots and wrinkles and puffy eyelids was a far cry from the put-together attorney that was taken away six months ago.

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you again, but under the circumstances…"

"Likewise, Ms. Taffet," Booth answered coldly.

Brennan took out the photographs again. Taffet only stared at them, unable to take her eyes off the skeletons.

"Admiring your handiwork, Heather?" Brennan said.

"Is that why you're here?" Taffet asked shakily.

"This isn't exactly a social call," Booth snapped.

She shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. "You know, I'm working on an appeal. You people STOLE EVIDENCE. I was held captive against my will, and ASSAULTED. So wipe that superior smirk off your face, Dr. Brennan, because if I play my cards right, you and I might be roomies."

"You're lucky I was taught not to hit girls," Booth growled.

"Ms. Taffet, are you responsible for these two bodies or not?" Brennan demanded.

"As a former attorney myself, I would be remiss if I spoke without my own attorney present. So you can understand why I'll have to decline your request for a response on the matter."

"Are. You. Responsible?" she asked again, anger boiling just below the surface.

"You heard what I said, Dr. Brennan."

With a thud, Taffet's face was slammed against the table as Booth yanked as hard as he could on her prison chains.

"I could sue the shirt off your back for brutality," Taffet hissed.

Putting his own face near hers, he could smell her breath. "Woah, Heather! Do they not let you brush your teeth here?"

He yanked the chain down again. "But something else stinks even worse. You KIDDNAPPED Dr. Brennan, who is bigger than you. And you managed to haul a man who is only a little shorter than me into a car. You somehow managed to put that car underground? And then two years later, you manage to HAUL ME into something that looks like a BEATLES' TOY?"

"A Beatles' toy?" Brennan echoed confusedly.

"Don't interrupt, okay?" he snapped, and then to Taffet: "And you expect me to believe that you're acting alone? Sorry, Heather, but that's a line I ain't buyin'."

"WHO IS WORKING WITH YOU?!" Brennan shouted.

"I don't have to say a word," Heather hissed again.

"Fine," Booth said and let the chain up in a way that made her chin hit the table again. "Have it your way."

"Whatever you're up to, whatever you've done," Brennan said, "you made a mistake once. And you made a mistake this time, too. Whatever it is, we'll find it. And when we do, when the time comes, I'll be the first in line to pull the switch at your execution."

And with that, they left, no further in their search for answers than they were when they first entered the prison gates. Brennan hoped that her friends would have more answers when they returned to the lab than they did.


	6. Chapter 5

"She didn't give us anything!" Brennan ranted as they walked to the car. "We came all that way for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Booth said, opening the door to the SUV. "She now knows we're on the case. Hopefully if the Gravedigger strikes again, we can sniff'em out. Plus, we've got her prison contacts. And…" he said, starting up the engine, "I got to kick her ss. That felt good."

"I did enjoy that," Brennan admitted sheepishly. Her cell phone rang. "Brennan," she replied absently, pouring over the phone logs.

"Hey sweetie, it's me. We've got an ID on the female victim," Angela said. "Put me on speaker-phone."

"The female victim is Deanna Goff. Aged 23. I didn't get any hits on the missing person's data base, but I DID get a hit in the criminal database."

"So she had a prison record? What for?" Brennan asked.

"Picked up twice for prostitution," Angela said. "And once for possession of meth."

"So our male victim was enjoying the company of a lady of the night?" Booth asked.

"It looks that way," Angela said. "And that means that whoever did this didn't count on the girl."

"Was Hodgins able to find anything out about the car?" Brennan asked.

"Not yet. He's running some tests on some particulates found on the tires. But we did find out that the same type of stun gun was used to knock the victims unconscious, which means that it's likely still the same person."

"That still doesn't tell us if Taffet's the puppet master or the puppet," Booth said. "Anything come back on the Tox Screen yet?"

"Get this…it appears that Sully's half-brother died of cardiac arrest."

"The Gravedigger had to be trying to keep them unconscious for longer periods of time," Cam joined in. "Because I found traces of chloroform over both the victims' gums."

"Chloroform AND taser? That doesn't sound like the same M.O.," Booth said.

"Maybe the killer was buying more time, so it wouldn't appear he…"

'Or she," Brennan corrected.

"Or she…had made another mistake."

"It's possible," Brennan admitted. "I still don't understand how cardiac arrest happened."

"We're still working on that," Hodgins chimed in. "We don't have the tox-screen back yet, so there's no way to tell if drug use caused it. But maybe the panic killed him."

"Sully doesn't have any history of heart trouble in his family that I'm aware of," Brennan said. "That makes no sense. Although the taser at a high enough voltage could've done the job."

"So he was dead before he was placed in the car?" Booth concluded. "That's new."

"If he's a half-brother, maybe the problem is with the gene-pool that isn't shared," Hodgins suggested.

"I'll ask Sully when we get back," Brennan said.

"Did you guys find out anything?" Cam asked.

"Dental hygiene in prison…pretty much non-existant," Booth quipped.

"Anything important?" Cam said. Brennan could practically hear her boss rolling her eyes.

"We've got her prison phone logs," Brennan answered.

"At least that's something," Cam said. "I've completed what tissue analysis I could. Fisher's cleaning the bones as we speak."

"Good, I want to get a look at my bones when I get back," she answered and then hung up, and began to review .

"Look at this, Booth. She was visited by Jeanine O'Connell the week before the esti…." at that moment, Brennan looked up and her eyes widened as she saw a semi-truck coming straight for them.

"LOOK OUT!!!" she screamed.

She heard the squeal of tires. Her cell phone slid from her lap and landed with a soft thud out of reach on the floor of the SUV. The papers she'd been holding scattered on the floor as well.

"Oh God…" Booth mumbled when he realized what was going to happen.

The net few moments seemed to last an eternity and a split-second all at once.

The SUV lost control. It clipped the railing, sending it flying over the embankment. Brennan heard the awful sound of metal against metal as it flipped once…then twice…

The car alarm began to sound. And then she heard the explosion of the airbags that had deployed, followed by sound of cracking glass. A warm, sticky wetness trickled in her eyes and the rusty smell of blood filled her nostrils.

Booth's frantic voice calling her name sounded oddly far away.

Then the oblivion consumed her. And darkness swallowed her whole.


End file.
